ataraxionlogs | thirty-first jump;

CHARACTERS: Any and all.
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond.
WARNINGS: Maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: There is something very easy about waking from the gravcouches this month. The sensation of being watched is absent, and so is much of the sickness - even for those characters who entered Engineering in February. Instead the jump feels comfortable, the stasis fluid warm on your skin, the medbay lights not too harsh as you emerge amongst your fellow passengers. The sensation may be unnerving in its strangeness, but there will be a deep feeling of being well-rested, calm and content, that will not be completely lost no matter how much you question it.

----------------

You wake up in darkness.

There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.

You are not alone.
There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.

After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.

If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.

This is your welcome party.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ it is the role robb had been born and raised to take, warden of the north, held by starks for generations. they had bowed to the dragons, robb knew. he knew the tale. the king who knelt, was that the moniker robb would one day share? the young wolf, who bared his throat for the dragon queen? was there shame in that, the way there would be shame and dishonor in kneeling for a stag, for a lion? ]

I have counted you as a friend before, and I would like nothing more than to do so again.

[ friend, not ally. there's more weight to that word, something robb thinks he needs here. ]

I know it seems strange and foolish to set aside the matters of home, but the only war to be fought here is against the ship itself. I swear it, my lady.

I have heard of waging a war with the use of ships, Lord Stark, but never against one. Explain yourself.

[ she’s deliberately choosing not to linger on the topic of friendship. she has had friends before and they stabbed her in the back. jorah would have sold her to the usurper just as easily as he breathed, for nothing but gold and pats on the head. robb would do the same, she trusts, to keep his claim to the north. his kindness will wear thin, just as her bear’s did. better to make the most of it while she has it without ever truly depending on it remaining a constant. ]

[ maybe another's would. but an honor-drenched stark, that was another matter altogether. robb was his father's son, would follow his honor into a painful death before betraying his honor, or what he felt was honorable. he'd made a pact with her. he would see that through, and they would find something acceptable once returned to westeros, should she ever cross the narrow sea.

or so robb hoped. ]

This ship is not like any from our world. It seeks to destroy us as surely as any enemy, and its halls are unsafe to walk. Stay to the light, and don't travel alone.

[ lest you go mad is how that sentence should end, but robb thinks that somehow she wouldn't appreciate that exact choice in words. ]

[ though she wants nothing more than to reject his advice, declare her intentions to find her dragons and scourge the halls of whatever would threaten their fellow passengers, and continue to charge headlong into her revolution, she knows that she is as in need of allies as ever she was. there is no viserys, no jorah or drogo, no barristan, not even missandei. she has no way to walk these halls but alone.

violet eyes drop for a moment as she considers as much, then she nods and turns back to her locker. ]

As you say. [ she has no way of knowing for herself, only what he is willing and able to tell her. she must believe him. if she persists in seeing enemies everywhere, she will drive herself—well. ] I will heed your counsel—on this, and the matter of our lions. Such care is a temporary salve: they will burn for what they have done—here or on the throne they have stolen, it matters not.

[ it does matter if she is forced to engage them. she would rather robb stark aide her in finding a way around the laws of this ship, but it is not a task for this day. ]

thirty-first jump;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject